Soundtrack: Six drabbles
by phineyj
Summary: Six lyric prompts: Six drabbles: All the characters


**Author's note: I don't own House or any of the lyrics quoted.**

**Soundtrack: Six drabbles**

_I sleep with my hands across my chest,  
And I dream of you with someone else,  
I feed my body with things that I don't need,  
Until I sink to the bottom,_

Maximo Park, "Going missing"

Wilson

After three weeks in the hotel, you get a text from Julie to say you can go back to the house. You need some things and you tell yourself this is a purely practical visit; a chance to do some laundry and pick up a few more ties, so House won't keep complaining the yellow one gives him a migraine.

So you're taken aback when your footsteps in the front hall have more of an echo than before. Her clothes are gone, her books are gone, the dented kitchen implements from her student days that she kept out of sentimentality are gone, but somehow she's still here.

That night, you sleep between the sheets you bought together and try to remember the last time you went to bed expecting to feel better the next day. You can't think when it was.

------

_Are you still waking in a panic  
are you sleeping in a ball  
are you still eating dinner in your car   
can't waste precious working hours_

Bird York, "What are you running after?"

House

Stacy doesn't have hobbies. Her idea of relaxation is a day in the spa or shopping for clothes. The day she moves in, she inspects your piano, guitars, books and CDs with a mixture of interest and bewilderment. "What do you _do_ with all this stuff, Greg?" she asks, running her hand along the smooth neck of the Gibson. You could tell her you need something to tether you, to distract your brain from its exhausting activity and allow you to rest. But what you say is, "Hands off the guitar," because she might live here now, but it doesn't mean she's got carte blanche with your stuff.

One night, you watch her watching you as you flick through books, check the internet and generally try something, anything, to give you a heads-up on the case you're working on, and you realize. She doesn't need hobbies. She's got you.

------

_Within the arms of slumber  
Going to leave it all behind  
Comatose gone under  
Like all the other times  
With pride and disdain I'm going to ignore this pain  
When someone falls you're supposed to get up again  
I try to oblige but I can't tonight  
I'm going to be all right...all right_

Eagle eye cherry, "In the arms of slumber"

Cuddy

You don't sleep well, never have. College was the worst; all those late nights studying followed by days keeping yourself awake through classes with coffee. You remember the dim grey gloom of the residences one morning at 5 a.m. You got talking to some guy in the kitchen; he was sarcastic and funny; he mocked your pajamas, bedhead and sketchy knowledge of the cardiovascular system (you were holding an anatomy textbook).

You didn't mean to spend all night finishing the Board papers, but you did, and a walk to the vending machine upstairs will keep you awake. The light's on in House's office, so you get him a coffee too. 

"You look like you could use some sleep," he says, absently, and you observe how worn and lined his face is in the first rays of the morning sun. You'd say the same to him, if you thought he'd listen.

------

_The lengths that I will go to  
The distance in your eyes  
Oh no, I've said too much  
I set it up_

R.E.M. "Losing my religion"

Foreman

You have friends; you do. It's just hard to keep in touch when you work these hours. And House is on your case 24/7 at the best of times; God forbid he finds out you've got a girlfriend. You get few enough nights off as it is.

Cameron is your friend; you now have no idea why you told her she wasn't. You get these phases when all you can think about is your career. A day or two later, sense kicks back in and you know you want House's skills, but not his total lack of social life.

You're just about to leave when you see the two of them looking at the bloodstain on the carpet like they're expecting it to reveal the face of the Virgin Mary or something equally unlikely. She's humoring him, you suppose.

Sure you have friends. You just don't have friends like that.

------

_So What Game Shall We Play Today?  
How About The One Where You Don't Get Your Way?  
But Even If You Do,  
That's Okay._

Jamie Cullum, "Get your way"

Chase

You suggest steroids; House says no. Well, he doesn't exactly say no; what he says is, "The only inflammation round here that needs suppressing is the overwhelming urge I have to kick you into next week," but the gist is clear.

You don't mind. House amuses you much more than he frightens you, these days. You go off and do the tests he told you to, then you grab a coffee, flirt with the pretty new cashier and head back up to the office for another differential.

You swap notes with the other two: the patient's got the rashes, the nodules, the respiratory issues - the test results are all pointing the same direction.

"Chase, push hydrocortisone," House says, turning back to the whiteboard as he speaks, so he can cross through one of his ideas from earlier.

"No problem," you reply, and you keep your smile to yourself. 

------

_I am not your rolling wheels  
I am a highway  
I am not your carpet ride  
I am the sky_

Audioslave, "I am the highway"

Cameron

You dream of the open road, winding like a snake into the bright blue distance. You have sunglasses on, the top down on the car – it's not your car; even in your dream you know this, and it doesn't matter. You don't know where you're headed to, but Princeton's receding in the rear view mirror. House is in the passenger seat, and you know he could tell you where you're going, but you don't want to wake him up.

House

You dream of the open road.

The bike's running well today, and your leg's not bothering you at all. You pass stores, offices, and take a needlessly sharp left at a traffic intersection, so your passenger has to hold on tight.

She has to shout above the noise of the engine so you can hear her. What she says is, "There's no sign, but I'll know when we get there."


End file.
